


Yours

by HepG2



Series: Heroic Ages: The Unforgiven [1]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Angst and Tragedy, Confessions, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Post-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 03:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13425963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HepG2/pseuds/HepG2
Summary: Tony finally gave his eulogy.





	Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, beautiful people! This takes place right after Tony flips Osborn the figurative bird and about to delete his brain. It's written for a challenge on AO3 Facebook Writer group, to commemorate the group's third anniversary. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this piece, so, enjoy!

Hey, Steve. It’s been a while. Sorry, I uh – can’t come to visit as often as I’d like to. I think of you often, though, so that still counts. Daily, in fact. Every night. Yeah, no, I just had to make it weird. Anyway. It’s been a year, and a lot has happened since, you know? I still – I mean, I _think_ you’ll be proud to know this – despite all the fuckeries, I’m _still_ on the wagon. That counts as a win, doesn’t it? Yeah, I think you’ll be proud to know that.

 

God help me, I think you don’t… _hate_ this. Hate us. Me. Please, I mean – no, you’re right to be pissed off. I still have your letter. The one your lawyer passed to me after you… I still have it. I’ve memorised it. I can read every word of it in your voice. Clint didn’t want your shield, by the way. Thought I should let you know first-hand. I thought it didn’t look right on him either. It’s not Clint, I don’t mean it that way. He’s a great guy, but he’s… he’s just not you. Still, we needed Captain America. And _I_ needed to… to make this better. I was selfish, Steve, even in the darkest moments for the Avengers and our country. I –

 

Anyway, I did what you asked me to. To make sure Barnes never lost his way, and to never let the dream die. He’s your legacy, Steve, like you wanted. He’s _still_ not you, but… right. I should stop forcing my unsolicited opinions on your… will. You used to say this character tick is part of my charm. Heh.

 

By the way, you know those things I kept telling you, about the truth is out there, that we’re never alone in this bigass universe? Uatu the asshole, he – or is it a she, I can’t tell – Uatu showed me what _could’ve_ been, Steve. If only I’d listened to you, come to you in peace, talked to you, _trusted_ you – I – you, you wouldn’t have to… I couldn’t! Knowing that this is not the only way things go down, after seeing us together again and again in my head, I can’t – Steve, I… oh God. I wanted, so _bad,_ to do it over. We could do it together! It was possible! My head was far too up my ass and you’re now –

 

I tried, Steve! I tried to make this work! The price we all paid is insurmountable. One more victory like this will undo me. I’m Director – well, _was,_ past tense, haven’t been one in a couple of hours. I was top dog for a whole year, but I’m not _you._ A year or hell, ten made no difference to Nick’s soldiers. There are people who remember you, who will never forgive and forget whose fault it is that put you down. And my God, I get that! I really do! Everything’s falling apart. Insurgencies erupting from every nook and cranny, because they believe that your death is the kink in our armour that they’d bidden their time for.

 

Osborn is funding these groups from the shadows. He’s the puppeteer pulling their strings. He won, Steve. He’s Director now. And I’m willing to wager what’s left of my assets that he’s put up a planet-wide manhunt for my head. So, I can’t stay here for long, Steve. I got to go soon. But I need to come here first. To see you again, say my goodbyes. Lordy, I’m talking to an empty grave. I haven’t started the procedure and I’m degenerating already. This headstone in Arlington is not my idea, by the way. Figured I should clarify this in person, too. I know you’d wanted someplace quiet. Someplace closer to home. Frankly, I don’t know if the Arctic made sense at all, but we all agreed – and that slimeball Namor swore on pain of death to keep you safe for as long as he is King. Well, I guess now we can’t nuke Atlantis to hell if he rear his ugly fin on this side of the continent, can we?

 

Listen, Steve. Osborn and his Dark Avengers are coming for me. But I didn’t just roll over and let them walk over me. I – heh – snuck a virus onto the mainframe, and managed to delete almost everything that’s labelled P and C. I scattered encryptions and what have you. It was fun when it lasted OK, so bite me. Call it – uh – emotional compensation for the goddam cavity search they pulled on me in full view of fifteen other fucking SHIELD agents. I know they’re after the SHRA database. And there’s only one left in this world: up here. Downloaded every byte into my synapses, and they’re all going away, Steve. I promise you this. I’ll destroy it. Osborn will not get his grubby paws on it.

 

I have a… uh, Glock here, in my bag. I’d plugged this up my mouth. I wanted to blow my brains out so many times I lost count. But, there’s a nine percent chance of survival if I do that, and that’s not good enough. If they recover my body, they’ll reassemble my brain and try to make whole the database. It’s too risky. Not if I can systematically delete my consciousness – if there _is_ such a thing as consciousness at all – if I can ensure total destruction of my cognitive capabilities, my memories – then the database is gone for good. No backups, I promise you. It’s gonna be a physicochemical perturbations to the integrity of my cerebrum. My motor functions will be gone. My speech capacities… yeah. An appalling way to go, but… it’s necessary.

 

I’m not gonna be alone, though. There’s three of us on-board. Well, technically speaking only I know what I’m about to do to my noggin, I just need Pepper and Maria to uh, basically help me out in the later stages of the procedure. I know I’m asking a lot. I uh… I’ll tell them the truth, sooner or later. I think in a week or two I’ll need all the help I can get just to piss into a hole in the ground, heh.

 

The point of me visiting you now is, I guess, to let you know that I’ll forget all of this, Steve. It’s unfair, it’s ugly, that I get to forget the War and all the wackadoo that comes with it, while the world tries to fix this. I know that deleting myself is the right thing to do, but I’m not sure if partly it’s because I want this… _pain,_ to just go away. I don’t care how, I just…

 

I’ll forget the first time I met you, the fish out of water from the forties. So eager to get back to your own era, and my heart broke knowing that I can’t let you. Not when you’d seen the future. It was simply too dangerous! I even sicced that nice young lady on you, and showed you awesome sciences, hoping that this all would fascinate you enough that you’d want to stay in modern New York. I’ll forget how you, despite your youth, rallied the bunch of rag-tag Avengers to do what is demanded of us – our mission. I’ll forget your kindness and wisdom, your teachings and advice, and your support when I felt most alone and worthless.

 

I’ll probably forget how much I’d loved you, Steve. I still do. I don’t think I’ll come out of this one alive. I’m… so done and tired of running away, cheating death. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife, and if so, if you’re already there. If there is, and if you are… will you have me back? Maybe for old time’s sake, will you be waiting for me on the other side? I’m afraid. Kind of.

 

I love you, Steve. I love you.

 

I’m going now. I’m dropping by the warehouse to blow up my suits first. Got a couple of loose ends to tie up before I uh, pull that figurative trigger. I love you, Steve.

 

Goodbye.


End file.
